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By breakfast on Wednesday, I’d come to the firm conclusion that it was the Duke of Pardloe, or me. If I stayed in the house, only one of us would remain alive by sundown.

_To Dr. Denzel Hunter
From Dr. C.B. R. Fraser

I am called away to Kingsessing for the day. I surrender his grace the Duke of Pardloe to your most competent care, in the happy confidence that your religious scruples will prevent your striking him in the head with an ax.

Yours most sincerely,

C.

Postscriptum: I’ll bring you back some asafoetida and ginseng root as recompense.

Post-postscriptum: Strongly suggest you don’t bring Dottie, unless you possess a pair of manacles. Preferably two._

I sanded this missive, gave it to Colenso for delivery to Mrs. Woodcock’s house, and executed a quiet sneak out the front door before Jenny or Mrs. Figg should pop up and demand to know where I was going.

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